Seven Days
by passerbyinlife
Summary: Seven days. The duration of time allowed for Fitzgerald Grant the Third to make a very hard choice concerning the life and death of the love of his life Olivia Pope. (set at post Season 4 Mid- Season Finale)
1. Chapter 1

The small cluster at the middle of the strategy room broke apart immediately as Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third entered the room. His eyes flitted across the variations of guilt, hesitation and sympathy displayed on the faces of the group of officials he had summoned for the sake of extracting Olivia Pope from the grasps of Andrew Nichols and Elizabeth North. 'Show me,' he commanded, silently bracing himself for what was to come.

Olivia was tied to a chair at the very middle of the dimly lit room, her eyes dark and wide with fright. A masked man strolled out shortly afterwards towards the chair. 'The president's mistress, aren't you,' he chided softly, teasingly, as he carefully lifted a strand of hair from Olivia's forehead and tucked it gently behind her ear, 'Hello there.' Olivia stared up at him with silent defiance. With a quick flick of his hand, he slapped her. 'It's within common courtesy, you know,' he lilted, 'To reply when people greet you.' He straightened up and continued. 'Allow me to enlighten you on matters of why you're here. Our President appears to be reluctant to send troops into West Angola. And that's where you come in. As an incentive for our dear POTUS to do what is necessary.' Olivia's eyes flick towards the camcorder. 'Fitz,' she began, 'I don't care what they do to me. You do not-'

She was cut off by the masked man, who had slipped behind her and was now holding her in a chokehold. 'Now, now,' he purred, 'Let him make his own decisions. He's a big boy now. Aren't you, Mr President? Now, on to today's main event. If you were a man I would punch your head in while listening to you howl in pain. But we won't want to ruin your pretty face, hmm?' He shifted suddenly, scooping her off the chair and flipping her over so that she was kneeling on the ground, her bound hands and head perched on the seat of the chair. 'Seeing that you are the President's mistress, I decided that you should get a little spanking. Men get turned on by that, you know.' He disappeared from the range of the camera shortly, as it shifted to allow viewers full view of Olivia's face. As the camera stilled, the man appeared back on screen, with what seemed to be a man- sized metal paddle in his hands. 'Ten kilograms of beauty,' he mused, running his fingers down it.

The first smack came and Olivia's face contorted with excruciating pain. She bit her lower lip hard, determined not to cry out, for fear of hurting Fitz, for fear that the influence that she knew she had over him would lead to him sending in thousands of young men into West Angola to die. The smacks were slow but steady. She could taste the blood on her lips. She was biting too hard, yet she could not, would not let go. The smacks got more and more painful. She could feel tears running down her cheeks now, and she hated herself for her blatant display of weakness. Smack. Smack. Smack. She could no longer muster the strength to cry, to feel anything, to think anything, to do anything. The pain and the sounds slowly melded together, until she could no longer quite tell if it was the twenty- first smack or the twenty- third, until finally, everything went blissfully black.

The masked man stopped as he noted the droop of his victim's head and put the paddle down. Calmly, he placed two fingers on the side of her neck and announced, 'No worries, Mr President. She's still alive. You have seven days to make your final decision. If I were you, I'd do so in a jiffy, unless you'd be interested in receiving six more videotapes of this lady over here being tortured in multiple ways and a seventh one of her being blown up by a car bomb. Goodbye and see you tomorrow.'

As the screen went black, Fitz stood up suddenly and strode out of the room and into the vice- president's office, grabbing Andrew's collar and slamming him into the wall. Andrew stared back at him. Amused. Taunting. 'Go on,' he stated, 'Slam me against the wall. Hit me. Do whatever you want. But that will not change the fact that besides sending troops into West Angola, there's nothing you can do to stop the light going out of Olivia Pope's eyes.'


	2. Chapter 2

(Later that day)

'No.'

'Cyrus, allow me to give you a brief recap of how plentiful my options currently are. I don't do anything, she gets blown up and the nation will know about our affair. I dare so much as lay a finger on Nichols and North, they kill Olivia and tell the world about it. So would you care to enlighten me on how else will I be able to get Olivia back, alive and whole, without sending troops into West Angola?'

'Which is the exact reason why I came to find you. I may not be able to help that much on that aspect, but I know people who can.'

Fitz raised his eyebrows as Cyrus marched out of the room and swiftly re- entered, followed by Huck, Quinn, Abby and Jake Ballard, all looking slightly sickened and shocked. It went without the necessity of asking that they had already been shown the video. Sighing, he settled back down onto the chair. There was no arguing with Cyrus.

'So,' he asked, 'Any leads?'

Jake looked up at him, 'I was with her—'

'And I know. I read the report you sent in. No leads, no clues, just nothing.' Fitz spat bitterly. He was angry at Jake. For not looking after her properly, for being the very last person she saw before being kidnapped, for nearly getting to have her on top of a piano—

Huck's voice interrupted his thoughts. 'It's impossible for anyone to discern the location of where the video was taken. Considering how it was all just pitch black, it could have been taken anywhere underground in America. So a rescue mission of any form will out of the question as we will not be able to locate them in the first place.'

'What about during the transportation process,' Quinn quipped in, 'On the seventh day. It'd be the easiest time for us—'

'Too risky,' Huck frowned.

'We can try kidnapping North or Nichols—' Quinn mused.

'We do that, Liv dies,' Jake snapped as he ran his hand through his hair.

The room quietened and Fitz began to worry. He wondered what form of torture Olivia was going through right now whilst they sat around in the Oval Office, unable to assist her in any way.

It was Abby who finally broke the silence, 'What about Olivia's mom? She might be able to help. And even if she really can't help us, she deserves to know.'

'Do it.' It was the first thing Maya Pope said as Fitz entered the Pentagon cell, accompanied by Jake. 'I don't care what they want from you. Give it to them.'

'We are planning on conducting a rescue mission and we assure you that Olivia will be back safe within the week.' Fitz could not help but be impressed of Jake's capability at lying as he forced a smile onto his own face.

Mama Pope, however, responded with an incredulous laugh. 'A rescue mission. Don't be silly. The bunch of you are no match against Eli Pope.'

'Eli Pope?'

'Who do you think had access to people skilled enough to remove my daughter whilst she was under the presence of a former B613 agent? Who do you think have people capable of executing such extreme measures of torture? Who do you think could have been capable to turn up with such an extreme ultimatum?' she spat.

Fitz was very, very careful with his wording for his next question.

'The last time something like this happened, it was your husband pointing his finger at you for killing my son whilst he was the guilty one.'

'Oh, enlighten me, won't you, what may I be able to gain from this. Money? Hell of a use that would be considering how I will be stuck in here for the entirety of my life. Pardon? Considering the amount of lives I've taken, I'm lucky that I'm still alive. All I want is my daughter to be safe and sound. So take my advice, gentlemen. Don't even try going against Eli Pope. You will lose and Livvy will die due to your blatant incompetence.'

Olivia woke up to the sound of someone violently slamming at the bars of her cell. 'You have a visitor,' she was informed as she sat up blearily, wondering why exactly was she sleeping on the cold, hard ground until reality struck her and she remembered. She silently braced herself for whatever it was to come.

Yet nothing on earth could have prepared her for her father.

'Hello, Olivia.'

'Eli,' she choked. She could not bear to call this man her father. No father would have had the heart to do such horrendous things to their daughter.

He reached forward to cup her cheek as she shuffled into the corner of her cell, attempting to get as far away from him as she possibly could. 'I didn't want this to happen, Olivia, I really didn't. But then you pulled the trigger. Remember, when I came to visit you at your home? You pulled the trigger, honey, and I simply had to take up their offer.'

'Go on then,' she said, as she felt a shiver of horror and disgust run down her body, 'Kill me.'

'Oh Livvy, dear,' he emitted a chilling laugh. 'By the time I'm done with you, you'd be wishing that you were dead.'

'You're a monster,' she whispered.

'Well now, had I not always been just that in your eyes?' Eli Pope asked as he stood up and swept out of the cell.


	3. Chapter 3

'You heard Maya Pope. We've tried going against Eli Pope twice and we'd lost to him miserably for both times. I am not risking Liv's life for this. We are sending troops into West Anglo.' Fitz stated as he paced around the Oval Office in frustration.

'You do that, you turn the entirety of America against you,' Cyrus rebuked.

'Seriously? _Olivia_ is at stake here. Hell to everything else.'

'Mr President, if I may,' started Quinn as Fitz turned his attention to her. 'Considering the timing, whatever form of torture Olivia was meant to undergo for the video tomorrow would have already been completed by now. Sending troops into West Anglo now or tomorrow would not make a difference as she would have already suffered from the same degree of torture. Give us one more day. One more video to figure things out.'

'Look,' Abby added, 'We all love Olivia and want her to be as far away from harm as possible. But the thing is, to give up at this point in time, it just wouldn't do.'

'Fine,' he sighed defeatedly. 'One more day.'

That night, he picked up his phone and dialed a number that he was very much familiar with. He listened to the dial tone, hoping, whilst knowing that it wouldn't happen, that she would pick up. He waited, for the soft whisper of a 'hello' he had grown so accustomed to for the past couple of years, for the chastising that would immediately follow- 'Do you not have a country to run?', for the soft, tender 'goodnight'— the way they had always ended their calls. And as the dial tone stopped and he was directed to the voicemail box, as a recorded, tinny version of Olivia's voice instructed him to leave a message as she was busy right now, he finally hung up and allowed himself to cry.

Day 2

'It's here,' Cyrus stated as Fitz swept into the room. He looked around the room— rather crowded due to how both the gang from Olivia Pope and Associates and the high level CIA agents he had summoned before receiving the first video were both there. 'Tell the CIA to leave,' he told Cyrus, 'I no longer require their services.' 'But sir—' 'If Eli Pope is indeed involved in this they will be of no use to me.' Cyrus obeyed reluctantly.

Stifling silence filled the room after the departure of the men from CIA, as Fitz reached forward for the remote control and, with a heart filled with dread, pressed play.

The screen was pitch black as a voice filled the room. Fitz recognized the voice. It was the same man from yesterday. 'Good day Mr President. Such a pity that it's taking you so very long to decide. You see, our dear Olivia here was having difficulty sitting properly without suffering from excruciating pain as her wounds from yesterday hadn't quite healed yet, So we decided to conduct today's session without having her to sit. Jolly considerate of us to do so, hmm?'

The screen brightened and Fitz noted the faint gasps of shock as he grasped the ledge of the table so to steady himself. Olivia was standing in a room filled with beds of nails. There was nails everywhere in a way that she could not move, not even an inch, without embedding a whole lot of them into her skin. 'As you can see,' the man sounded like he was trying not to laugh, 'We will be doing quite a lot of standing today. 24 full hours, in fact. Rest assured not only will our dear Olivia be physically drained, the prolonged silence had always been prone to driving past victims mad. Oh well. I also thought that it would be nice of me to give you this shortened version of the entire process. After all, POTUS is a busy man, what with having to run the country and fucking his former communications director, of course it would be greatly inconvenient for him to spare 24 hours to watch a video. '

The video was excruciating to watch. Olivia handled the first five hours well, yet as the sixth hour came and pass, it was evident that things were getting harder and harder for her, as her legs nearly buckled beneath her for multiple times. By the eighth hour, she was bleeding steadily from numerous places due to multiple unfortunate encounters with the nails. By the twelfth hour tears were running down to cheeks, be it due to the lack of food or water or fatigue or how the nail room was slowly and steadily breaking her. At the fourteenth hour, she crumpled onto the ground, falling onto the bed of nails in the process as the screen went black. Fitz noted Abby's faint shriek, Cyrus's soft murmur of 'shit', yet it all seemed very, very far away. The screen crackled and came back to life, displaying Olivia lying on what appeared to be the surface of the cell, one side of her caked in blood and a number of nails. 'It's okay,' the voice informed them cheerily, 'It's not as bad as it looks. She's still alive. She'll be needing quite a lot of stitches though. Whoopsies. Anyways, that's it for today. See you tomorrow!'

Fitz looked around the room as the video ended— at Abby, sobbing softly in a corner; at Huck, trembling with anger; at Quinn, looking sick; at Jake, mouth agape with horror, at Cyrus, eyes glazed with disbelief and fright, and stated determinedly, 'We will be sending troops into West Angola. I will be announcing that at noon, and don't you all dare convince me to do otherwise.' Then he ran down the corridor, into the mens' toilet, and puked and puked and puked.


	4. Chapter 4

Day 3

Fitz stepped down from the podium, weary from the numerous questions that had immediately followed after his proclamation of war in West Angola, as he made a beeline towards Andrew Nichols. He noted Andrew shooting him an uncharacteristically fearful glance before detaching himself from the phone.

'Let her go. Now.' He hissed at Andrew.

'I'm so sorry,' Andrew murmured back at him as he handed Fitz his phone.

Fitz felt his heart drop as he recognized the voice of Eli Pope on the other end of the line.

'We meet again, Mr President.'

'I've done what you wanted me to do. Now let Olivia go.'

'No, Mr President. And don't you bother messing around with Mr Nichols and Miss North. They did what they had to do and now they no longer have any say over what is to happen. Because you see, Mr President, Olivia Pope was my daughter and she'd- well, let's say- misbehaved, threatening my life in the process. And I don't like threats, not at all. They simply must be eliminated. So what's going to happen is that Olivia will never know of what you've done today. She'll have to go through what she'd gone through for the past two days, and on day seven she will be blown up, heartbroken due to how her dear Mr President had failed her. Not quite the happily ever after the two of you had always wanted, hmm? Anyways, goodbye, Mr President, and have a great day.'

'He's a monster,' Abby gasped after Fitz related the earlier happenings to the group.

'That's new,' Quinn replied sardonically.

'The first thing we do right now is to locate her,' Jake murmured impatiently as he drummed his fingers against the desk. 'But how?'

'Maya Pope.' That was Huck.

'We've questioned her already, remember?' Cyrus sighed.

'It took her less than fifteen minutes for her to track down her daughter when she broke out of prison last year- a daughter she had never seen for more than ten years. She must have had some way of tracking Olivia down.'

'Then why wouldn't she have told us when we asked?' Fitz felt a burst of hope, accompanied with no shortage of uncertainty.

'She thought that we'd fail and Olivia would die because of that. She thought that accepting the terms would be the best way of getting Olivia home safe. That was why,' Huck looked down as he murmured.

Indeed, after questioning Maya Pope again, the group found out that she had inserted a tracking device in Olivia— not in her back, the way it was traditionally done, but in her arm.

Once Olivia's location was pinpointed, the rest was easy. The rescue team- comprised of Jake, Quinn, Huck and a group of CIA agents- was put together in less than minutes. The team then cleared out to ready themselves, leaving Cyrus and Fitz in the Oval Office.

'You don't like it,' Cyrus stated.

'There are many things that I dislike of at this time, Cyrus. Would you be interested in being just that little bit more specific?'

'The fact that Jake Ballard is on the rescue team. The way he will be Olivia's knight in shining armor, the way they'll locate her and rescue her and she'll bury her head into his shoulder as he picks her up in the gentlest way possible…'

'Shut up.'

Cyrus had always been the one in charge of sorting Fitz out by voicing out his deepest thoughts and his darkest fears. It was a hard and unpleasant job that he found no pleasure in doing, yet it had to be done. He was about to continue, yet they were interrupted by Lauren as she opened the door and said, 'Mr President? We have just received the third video.'

This time, Olivia was splayed on top of a table, her hands and feet strapped down, as the masked man walked within the range of the camera.

'You are the mistress of the President of the United States, yes?' he asked.

Olivia stared silently and defiantly up at him.

'Fine,' he snarled as he delivered a swift slap to her face.

'Now,' he purred, 'Let me ask you the question again: are you the mistress of the President of the United States?'

Olivia's countenance did not shift as she spat blood at him. The man simply responded by dealing out a heavier slap. 'Are you or are you not the mistress of the President of the United States?' His voice was laced with danger.

'Yes,' she whispered.

'Louder!'

'Yes.' The hint of defeat within her voice made Fitz's heart twinge.

'So, you've been one naughty girl, haven't you?' Olivia bit her lip and opted to stay silent.

He slapped her once again. 'You know, the polite thing to do would be to respond.'

'Yes,' she breathed.

'And the thing with naughty girls is that they must be punished, am I right?' he murmured as his hands slowly crept beneath her shirt. Olivia's eyes widened in shock as she realized the horrors in store for her. Numbness filled her as he carefully raised himself above her and eased his pants down, as he stated smoothly, 'Let's see what our dear President's tastes regarding such matters are, shall we?'

It was then that Cyrus paused the video. 'Fitz,' he said, 'I advise you to leave the room. Now. Please. I will help you finish watching what's left and tell you if anything of significance comes up.' Fitz felt himself rise mechanically from his chair. The next thing he knew, the world morphed before his eyes and everything went black.


End file.
